


Eligible Bachelor

by ReverseMousetrap



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Comedy, Jack is a creep, Multi, minor jackisha, minor timhelm, rating to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 15:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverseMousetrap/pseuds/ReverseMousetrap
Summary: Jack invites his brand new body double out on a fancy dinner date. Tim figures it can't be that bad.He's wrong.





	Eligible Bachelor

**Author's Note:**

> The Discord made me do it, and for that I am grateful.

The smell of gunpowder and cologne entered the room before Jack did, but when he arrived there was no mistaking it. He swept in, holding up his hand for a high five from the maître d’ and grabbing the man's arm to complete it when it was ignored.

Tim stood up quickly, sucking in a deep breath as he smacked both knees on the edge of the table. Jack caught sight of him and his face split into a massive grin.

“Ha ha, my _man!”_ he roared. The other guests glanced nervously at him from the corners of their eyes as he waded through the restaurant, but Tim steeled himself and smiled back.

“Hello, sir...?”

“Please. Call me Jack.” A heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder. “You look _amazing.”_

He wasn't quite sure he agreed: he was still figuring out how clothes fit on his new body, and he felt like a teenager wearing his father’s old suit. The real Jack had thrown on a clean leather jacket, but other than that he looked the same as he had twelve hours ago when he'd shouted a dinner invitation over the gunfire on Helios.

Tim had assumed it was directed at Nisha. She'd corrected him with a wink and an unsubtle hint of jealousy, which only made him more nervous. He'd have to nudge Jack her way if he survived the night.

“Sit down, gorgeous,” said Jack, throwing himself onto the other chair. “Haven't these schmucks got you a menu yet? God, the service here is terrible!”

A wine list was shoved into Tim's hands by a poker-faced waitress and he tried to control his expression as he saw the numbers printed down the side.

“I - uh, I might skip drinks tonight,” he mumbled.

“Don't be a pussy,” said Jack, snatching the page from his hand and glancing over it. “Tassiter's paying. Not that he knows it yet. White or red?”

“Maybe a glass of the house red, if it's not too much trouble -”

Jack snapped his fingers. “Yo, lady! Get me a bottle of the...expensive cabinet thingy.”

“The Eden-6 cabernet sauvignon?” asked the waitress, her voice dripping with condescension. “Certainly, sir. If you could just provide us with your credit card…”

“Cool, cool. Here. Steal it if you want.” He handed over the Hyperion corporate card without hesitation. “Load us up. And save an extra in case we need it.”

The waitress couldn't get away from them quickly enough. Tim stared down at his excessive amount of cutlery, trying to remember which order he was supposed to use all the forks in. “Jack, please, it's too much.”

“Nothing's too much for the world's most handsome man!” Jack winked at him. “Now, what do you like? Steak, lobster...”

"Uh, I'm actually a vegetarian,” mumbled Tim. “I hear the ravioli’s good here, though.”

“Uh-uh, sunshine. That body needs protein, not carbs. Don't worry, I'll get ‘em to hide the meat for ya. You won't even know.”

He felt a little sick at the thought, but swallowed it down. He'd eaten some pretty questionable things in college. If he was going to break his diet, at least he'd be doing it for quality produce.

Their wine arrived with a different waitress and Jack gulped down the taste she poured into his glass before demanding a refill. Tim frantically motioned for her to stop when his own glass was one-third full. She looked between the two of them, her brow furrowed.

“You two twins?” she asked.

“Y’know, we get that a lot, babe,” Jack said smoothly. “Maybe later you can check if we're _really_ identical.”

She slammed the bottle down onto the tablecloth and disappeared. Tim wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“Don't worry, it's just habit. I'm all about you tonight.” Jack waved his wine glass in one hand and reached across the table with the other, gripping Tim's hand tightly and tracing over the knuckles with his thumb.

“Tell me about Hyperion,” Tim blurted out, and it must have been the right thing to say because Jack launched into a verbal dissertation on his career, letting go of him in order to punctuate his stories with broad sweeps of both arms. He sipped his expensive wine and let himself breathe a little more easily.

“- and then Tassiter, the asshole -”

People were staring at their table but he blocked them all out. Tim could work with this. He could have a nice dinner with his crazy new boss, put up with the flirting and the innuendo for a few hours and go back to getting shot at in the morning with the knowledge that things could be worse. When the first course arrived, he picked a fork at random and tried to eat without looking at his plate. Whatever it was, it tasted phenomenal; he hoped his stomach wouldn't object to things that weren't stale toast.

Then he felt a hand on his knee, and he nearly choked.

“But you, babe? Seeing you just makes it all worthwhile.”

Tim swallowed hard and made a mental note never to touch any of Jack's mirrors. He placed his own hand on top and tried to surreptitiously push it off, but it wouldn't budge, and Jack just smiled, oblivious. He reached for the wine with his free hand and slopped a medicinal amount into his glass, drinking it down as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

“I mean, God, just _look_ at you! That face…” Jack's fingers crept up the inside of Tim's thigh, and the worst part was that he seemed to have no idea he was doing it.

Fortunately a young waiter arrived with two enormous white plates, which took Jack's attention off him. Not so fortunate was his boss’ tendency to talk with his mouth full. Tim curled his hands into fists under the table.

“So what about you, cupcake? Student loans? You know, most people pick an easier way to fake their deaths. What'd you study?”

The question took him aback. He wasn't used to being given the opportunity to speak by Jack - or his surgical team.

“Creative writing,” said Tim, cringing inwardly.

“Hah!” exclaimed Jack. “Oh wait, you're frickin’ serious, aren't you? No, no no no, that won't do. Wow, really?”

He felt like telling Jack he'd heard enough about it at his last family Thanksgiving, but decided against it for several reasons.

“Don't worry, I'll give ya a crash course on the computer stuff. Then if I ever feel like taking a day off work, I'm covered! Man, this was a good idea. Cheers, Jack,” said Jack, raising his glass.

“Actually, sir, I was hoping that in private you could still call me -”

“I told you to call me Jack, honey. It's your name too. Shouldn't be too hard to remember. Now _cheers.”_

Tim obeyed with great reluctance, cursing his guidance counsellor to the edge of the universe and back. Follow your dreams, she'd said. The bitch. He'd barely touched his food by the time the waiter came back to take their plates. He thought he'd never feel hungry again.

“Now, I usually don't eat dessert, but this is a special occasion, so we’re both getting some,” announced Jack. “I’m treating myself. Two big ol’ slices of chocolate gâteau.”

He pronounced it _gay-toe._ Tim tried to will his soul to leave his body and go literally anywhere else.

“Say, you got somewhere nice to stay, pumpkin? You can always come over to mine tonight. It'll be a little cozy, but I'll make room.”

Tim jumped out of his seat the second he felt Jack's boot sliding up the inside of his calf. “I - I need to use the restroom,” he stammered, pushing his chair back and striding across the floor on legs that felt like jelly. With shaking hands he fumbled the lock to the men's room into position and collapsed onto the lid of the toilet.

He considered his options. Jack was a good-looking guy. He'd probably have gone for it once upon a time, back with his old face and old body and without the feeling that he was participating in the world’s most elaborate act of masturbation. He shuddered. He could claim he was waiting until marriage, but Jack would probably whip out a ring then and there. And who would believe he wasn't interested in guys after he forgot how to speak in front of Wilhelm?

Tipping his head back in despair, Tim noticed a small open window at the top of the wall. His newly learned survival instincts kicked in, and he clambered up onto the seat followed by the tank; yanking the window all the way open, he inhaled the wondrous scent of fresh, Jack-free air.

It wasn't until he was halfway out that he realised two things: that he was three floors off the ground, and that he was no longer a skinny college student living off noodles.

“Aw, fuck my life.”

Tim considered going back. He wasn't a teenager; he could handle a bad date. But when he squeezed himself back through the window and caught sight of Jack's face, he almost screamed in horror before realising he was looking in a mirror.

Then he almost screamed again.

There was nothing for it: he would have to call for help. He reached for the ECHO contact list in his pocket. Apart from Jack, it only contained the names of his fellow Vault Hunters. An underrated consequence of being legally dead, he figured.

The Hammerlock woman most likely wouldn't answer, and even if she did it would be solely to laugh at his predicament. Claptrap would only make things worse, and so would Nisha - though she'd do it on purpose with a smile. God, how did he end up with these people? He'd kind of hoped to make a better, tougher impression on Wilhelm after tripping over his own feet the first time they met, so that left only one option.

“Hello...Jack.”

She said the name as if it was in quotation marks. It both worried and reassured him that he was an unconvincing copy.

“Heyyy, Athena. You busy? I might need a favour,” said Tim. “By which I mean I have screwed up and I'm really hoping you can rescue me.”

He could picture her face at that moment. Many people mistakenly thought Athena had only one facial expression, but Tim had observed her enough to notice the subtle distinctions between ‘bored’, ‘unimpressed’ and ‘murderous’.

“You get first pick of the loot from now on. I promise. And you can have that Dahl rifle you liked -”

“Just send me your coordinates,” she said. Was it possible to hear someone roll their eyes? “What are you up against? Scavs? Torks?”

“Jack's libido,” he said dolefully.

The silence on the line was painful, and Tim hoped beyond hope she wouldn’t hang up on him.

 _“Who are you talking to?”_ said a familiar Elpis-accented voice in the background.

“Jack. The nice one,” answered Athena.

_“Oh, right. Say hi for me!”_

“Springs says hello.” Tim could almost imagine Athena smiling. Almost.

“This is a lovely little reunion, ladies, but if you don't come find me in the next ten minutes I'm gonna be stuck with a drunk Jack all night and I'm pretty sure he's gonna try and kiss me with his eyes open.”

“Understood,” said Athena. “I've looked up your location. If you save me some cake I'll consider us even.”

“You're my favourite person,” Tim said.

“Okay.” She hung up.

Tim smoothed his hair down and adjusted his clothes before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to look in the mirror.

“Alright, Timothy Lawrence,” he muttered. “Time to make up the most important story of your life.”


End file.
